


Southern Customs

by jenny_of_oldstones



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Forced Sterilization, Jaws of Hakkon, M/M, Mages and Templars, Mutilation, The Chantry (Dragon Age), The Circle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 09:19:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15660276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_of_oldstones/pseuds/jenny_of_oldstones
Summary: Dorian had always understood that southern Circles were barbaric institutions.He had no idea how barbaric.





	Southern Customs

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“I beg your pardon?” said Trevelyan.

Thane Svarah Sun-Hair did not appear in the least ashamed of her question. “I said, would you be willing to lie with some of our womenfolk before you go?”

Trevelyan blinked. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Nor do I,” said Dorian, a bit louder than necessary. Vivienne stood beside him with her arms folded, unperturbed by the sudden turn that their farewell meeting with the thane had taken. Cassandra’s face was also studiously blank, though her cheeks were colored pink.

They had all been walking out of the cave to return to the Inquisition camp, when the thane had, casually, asked if the Inquisitor would like to impregnate a few Avvar women before he left.

“We do not have many mages in our clan,” said Svarah. “You are taking Sigrid Guldsdotten away, and our augur, as you may have noticed, is old. You are young, battle-proven, and a talented mage. There are women in the hold who would be more than happy to bring more magic to Stone-Bear, and your blood is the best hope of new lines we have at the moment.”

“I see.” To Trevelyan's credit, his Inquisitorial mask never slipped. “This sounds like an honor.”

“It is an honor,” said Svarah. “We value magic here. If it is your children’s wellbeing you fear for, I can assure you, they will be treated far better with us than they would ever be in one of your Circles.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” said Trevelyan. “However, I must decline.”

The thane sat back on her throne. “Is it a matter of pride?”

“No, it is a matter of virility,” said Trevelyan. “I’m afraid I can’t have children.”

Dorian laughed. He wasn’t sure why. It was such an absurd statement. He knew better than anyone just how capable Trevelyan was of performing the sexual act—his current lover’s lack of childbearing parts notwithstanding.

But he was the only one who seemed amused. Vivienne, Cassandra, and even the thane’s expressions darkened in understanding.

“You were cut, then?” asked the thane.

“I was,” said Trevelyan.

“Cut?” asked Dorian.

The Inquisitor and the three women looked at him. If he did not know any better, there was something like pity in their faces.

"They used to alter children in the Circle, my dear," said Vivienne.

"Alter? I'm not sure understand-"

And then Dorian did. 

 

* * *

 

The first time they made love, Dorian had cupped Trevelyan’s balls in his hand and squeezed them roughly. Trevelyan’s arms had been thrown over his eyes, and he whined at the teasing. 

“The smell of you.” Dorian kissed downward until his nose met hair. He pressed his nose hard into Trevelyan’s flesh, inhaling the heady musk of sweat and prick. “All I have to do to get hard now is remember how you smell.”

Trevelyan made a pitiful noise. Dorian pushed his legs up. He kissed his balls, teasing them with his tongue, shaping his mouth around them.

His lips found a scar.

It was thick enough to make Dorian sit back. Right at the base of Trevelyan’s cock, on either side leading down to the testicles, were two bars of puckered flesh, raised like brands.

“Maker's breath,” he said. “What happened here? Did someone tickle you with a hot poker?”

“Something like that,” said Trevelyan. “Now get back to work.”

"So bossy." Dorian brushed his thumb across one of the scars. There was something dangerous here—something he dared not give name, so, instead, he buried his face back into sensitive flesh, and returned his attention to pleasure.

 

* * *

 

In retrospect, he had always known what the scars meant.

He had simply been too much a coward to speak the words aloud.  

 

* * *

 

Dorian waited until the party returned to the Inquisition camp before he sought out Cassandra.

He found the Seeker in her tent, seated on her bed. Her armor was neatly stacked on the floor, and her sword was in her lap. She stopped cleaning it when he barged in.

“So, that's what you did to children?” asked Dorian. His voice had a waver to it. He couldn’t help it. All through their march back through the jungle, magic had boiled inside his blood. It had taken all of his restraint not to level the basin in a firestorm. “You neutered them like animals?”

Cassandra sighed. “Yes. We did that.”

“Why am I not surprised.” He curled his fists to keep from shaking. “The benevolent southern Chantry, protecting the world from magic by mutilating little boys' privates.”

Cassandra lowered her head. She at least had the grace to look ashamed.

“It was only ever practiced in a few Circles,” she said.

“And that makes it better?”

“Originally, it was intended as a way to curb mage population growth. It was believed that if male mages were sterilized, it would prevent unwanted births.”

“So much kinder than simply stealing their children away from them.”

Cassandra shut her eyes. “The practice was introduced twenty or so years ago, when some of the Circles began to get overcrowded. There were not enough Templars to guard them. The sterilizations caused….complications. Some children developed infections. A few died.”

“And that’s when it stopped?”

“No,” said Cassandra. “The sterilizations stopped when it was discovered they did little to curb the pregnancy rates in Circles. Most of the births, we found, were not caused by the mages sleeping together, but by Templars having intercourse with the mages.”

Nevermind the basin—Dorian wanted to burn the whole world down.

“Something you could have gleaned right away had you asked the mages, I imagine.”

Cassandra opened her eyes. “Yes.”

“You people.” Dorian didn’t know if it was rage or grief in his voice now. “Did you know this was going on?”

“I did.”

“And you did nothing to stop it?”

“No, I did not.”

“And if it had been mundane children, you would never have stood for it, correct? If it had been mundane children, you would have saved them.”

Cassandra’s nose curled. For a moment, Dorian saw defiance in her face—that kneejerk defense of the Templar Order and the Chantry she had stooped to since the day they had met—but it quickly faded away.

“We were wrong,” she said. “I was wrong,”

“How noble of you to admit it, now that it no longer matters.”

Dorian left her sitting there. He threw back the tent flap and singed it with his fingertips. Flame licked along his hands, and he slung them until the fire snuffed out. He was so blinded with anger that he almost ran into Vivienne.

She was standing in the middle of the path with her arms folded. Her implacable calm only enraged him more.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You approve of what the Circle did?”

“Quite the contrary,” she said. “It was a barbaric practice.”

“Oh.” The fury drained out of him. In its place, exhaustion rushed in.

“Did they ever do anything like that to you?” he asked.

“Not at Ostwick,” she said. “But at Montsimmard, there was a Knight-Commander whose brief tenure was notorious for forcing little mage girls to drink a potion that was reported to wither wombs.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, darling. In some ways, it was a kindness.”

Vivienne touched his shoulder. The gentleness in her eyes made him want to weep.

“Go to him,” she said.

 

* * *

 

In the Inquisitor’s tent, Trevelyan was already in bed. Dorian skinned off his robes, armor, and boots, and crawled in beside him.

“Are you done yelling at Cassandra?” asked Trevelyan.

“Consider yourself lucky I didn’t kill her.”

Dorian pressed close. It was hot and humid under the blankets, and he did not care.

“Did you ever want to have children?” Dorian asked.

“No,” said Trevelyan. “But it would have been nice to have had the choice.”

Dorian reached down and cupped Trevelyan’s genitals in his hand, feeling their warmth against his palm.

He thought about all the times he had chuckled at the backwardness of the southern Circles. He thought about his condescension toward the rebel mages and their pitiable fight for freedom. He thought of Trevelyan as a little boy, and of the Templars telling him to be brave as they cut and burned his flesh as if he was a dog.

What better way to show mages they had no future? They stole the mages' greatest hope for themselves with a simple nick, and told them they were doing them a favor.

“Never again,” hissed Dorian in the dark. “They’ll never hurt you again.”

“No.” Trevelyan placed his hand over his. “They won’t.”

Dorian trusted that. If there was anything he trusted in this world, it was Trevelyan’s wrath against the Chantry. For once, it did not unnerve him or give him doubt.

It left him feeling clean, like fire. 

 

 


End file.
